Set in Stone
by SecretEve95
Summary: "Please talk to me," Pippa implored. Pippa reached out and clasped hand of the witch who until recently she considered to be her best friend. She held it affectionately between her own and squeezed gently. With a soulful gaze the blonde witch attempted to meet the wide brown orbs of the young witch beside her.


Set in Stone

"Have you heard the latest, Pippa?" The young witch seated by her side probed eagerly in a harsh whisper. "Joy is insisting that everyone call her Hecate from now on. I didn't think it was possible for her to be more odd than she already was. Apparently, I was wrong."

This proclamation was urgently met with murmurs of agreement.

"I don't think so," Pippa piped up. "It has been no secret to me that her middle name is Hecate and that she has shown preference for it on occasion. That does not make her odd. Plus, I'm sure that there are many people out there who favour their middle name or choose new names for themselves entirely."

The gaggle of girls surrounding the blonde witch fell silent and some were heard humming in reluctant agreement to her tune.

Unnoticed, Hecate listened to this exchange from the adjacent table. She was seated alone with an untouched bowl of porridge in front of her and a spell book open on the table. The dining hall was buzzing with the humdrum chatter of students. She could hear sound of wooden chairs as they were scraped against the floor and cutlery as it clinked against bowls. An overcast sky hovered darkly over the school. It allowed so little sunlight to spill in through the windows that some lanterns remained lit. Hecate glanced involuntarily at the teacher's table. Mrs Cackle and all the teachers were present with one exception; the deputy headmistress, Miss Cackle. Abruptly, the school bell rang signalling the beginning of the day's lessons. Hecate scooped up her spell book and satchel and exited the dining hall at a fast pace in a measured attempt to slip away unnoticed by Pippa and her friends. As she rounded the corner into the corridor, she was halted by the missing Miss Cackle.

"Ah, Hecate. I need to speak with you in private," she began in a firm and serious tone.

"I don't want to be late for spell science," Hecate protested feebly.

"The matter cannot wait, I'm afraid."

Miss Cackle used her hand to create a swift practiced movement in the air. The pair vanished from the congested corridor and reappeared in Hecate's bedroom. Miss Cackle observed the unnatural orderliness of the room. She noted how changes had been made to it since the last time she had visited the girls occupying this corridor to inform them that it was lights out. The young witch had removed any trace of decoration or personalisation. Hecate took notice of Miss Cackle's momentary surveillance. She recalled how she had removed the pictures and drawings that had adorned her walls and stored any and all items that had belonged to Joy in a box under her bed. Miss Cackle gestured for Hecate to sit. The young witch sat unwillingly on the edge of her bed and the older witch brought forth Hecate's desk chair and became seated also. Guilt and unease swirled and sizzled within the stomach of the young witch for she knew the reason for this unusual meeting. She had been found out; caught. Miss Cackle began to speak.

"Over the past couple of days I have conducted a stocktake of the potions lab. I have discovered that there is a notable amount of restricted ingredients missing from the locked store cupboard. Ingredients which are used specifically to brew a sleeping potion," Miss Cackle paused and tried to catch the downcast eyes of the young witch before her. "Is there anything you wish to tell me?"

Hecate remained silent and resolute.

"You are an intelligent girl and I'm sure you don't need me to explain to you that potions such as these are dangerous if consumed on a regular basis. Before you know it, you will require twice the amount to achieve sleep," the older witch paused, and her facial expression softened. "I can only assume from my stocktake that you already do. Dear girl, there may come a day when you do not awake."

"Have you told Mrs Cackle?" Hecate asked softly.

"No. But I certainly have a mind to if this misuse of magic continues," she replied curtly. A moment passed as Miss Cackle took in and released a deep breath. "I do care about you, Hecate. I am very concerned for you. I do not want to see you involved in any more trouble that could lead to you being expelled from the academy or losing your magical powers."

Miss Cackle rose and strode over to the desk of the young witch. With a smooth hand movement several potion vials disappeared along with the remainder of some valuable ingredients. Miss Cackle turned back to face Hecate who was as silent and still as a statue. The young witch sat mutely as rage brewed in the pit of her stomach. Could nobody understand the silent agony she was in? Sleep had revealed itself to be her only respite; and now it had been taken from her.

"Is there anything you wish to speak with me about? Is there anything I can do to support you through this difficult time?"

Miss Cackle was met with unwavering silence in response. A sad and compassionate half-smile adorned her features as she strode towards Hecate and sat down once again on the desk chair. This time she reached out her hand and placed it atop the hand of the young witch.

"You know where to find me if you need me," She squeezed Hecate's hand tenderly whilst using her other hand to create a swift practiced movement in the air. The young witch vanished and found herself in her spell science class.

Later in the day found Hecate tucked up in a corner of the library. Her homework was splayed precariously across the desk. Unable to concentrate, she cradled her head in her hands as she soaked in the surrounding silence. It was at this time that Pippa entered. She was carrying several books. The blonde witch did not immediately notice Hecate and went about returning her borrowed books to their rightful places on the shelves. Hecate watched her sombrely as she did this until Pippa rounded and spotted her. She noticed how the facial expression of the blonde witch fell and transformed into that of concern. Pippa crossed the room in a few languid strides and installed herself in the chair beside Hecate.

"Are you alright? You don't look well."

Hecate averted her eyes from the focused gaze of the blonde witch. With downcast eyes she listened as Pippa spoke softly.

"It's always been hard to tell with you, Hecate; but I know that something has happened. Something has happened and it has changed more than just your name," she paused. "And until the time comes when you will allow me the opportunity to understand what's going on inside you, I must keep my distance from you. I can't stand the way in which you have treated me recently; the lengths you've gone to ignore me. It hurts me. You're hurting me."

A resounding bang echoed through the room and startled the pair as a group of girls opened the door too forcefully in their haste.

"There you are, Pippa! We've been looking everywhere for you," exclaimed one of the young witches. "We need to practice for the chanting contest. Are you coming?"

"I'll be there soon," the blonde witch replied as she flashed her friends an insincere smile and turned her attention back to Hecate. The gaggle of girls peered with unabashed curiosity at Hecate and Pippa. The young witches retreated from the otherwise empty library. They didn't travel too far from their queen bee and continued to giggle and murmur and chat outside in the corridor.

"Please talk to me," Pippa implored.

Pippa reached out and clasped hand of the witch who until recently she considered to be her best friend. She held it affectionately between her own and squeezed gently. With a soulful gaze the blonde witch attempted to meet the wide brown orbs of the young witch beside her. She discovered that her efforts were met with futility.

Hecate withdrew her hand from the tender grasp of the other witch. Tears sprung, stung and threatened to fall from the eyes of the blonde witch.

"I won't chase you, Hiccup."

At the closing of the day when all the study and tasks of the day were complete, Hecate felt the despair of recent events simmer dangerously beneath her skin. Diving headfirst into her studies and detaching herself from her peers had been her natural response to the trauma she had suffered. Keeping her mind occupied had been a steady diversion from the pangs of a guilt-ridden conscious and the unbearable pain that had infected her heart. But its' respite was short lived and fast failing her. Hecate often found herself in a state of unreality. It was there that she envisioned a multitude of fates for Joy. Joy had drowned in the deepest ocean. Joy had succumbed to a magical disease to which there was no cure. Joy had soared and fallen from the highest tower at Cackle's Academy. Joy had been turned to stone with Indigo; their fates sealed together forever.

In the weeks since she had stood before the Magic Council and the Grand High Wizard had handed down his ruling, the ability of the young witch to cope had been annihilated. The fact that Indigo was lost to her forever was concept that her mind could not yet absorb. The repercussions of her magical confinement within the school grounds struck her with fear; so much so that there were endless questions that she could not find the courage to yet ask herself. Such as, how would she feel when her peers graduated and left her behind? What might her life look like ten, twenty or even thirty years from now?

Evening fell upon the school and all its occupants. Hecate, armed with the knowledge that all staff and students would be in the dining hall eating their dinners, made her way to the potions lab. Her bootsteps echoed through the empty corridors in quick succession. Hecate had decided the very moment that Miss Cackle had confiscated her vials of sleeping potion and further ingredients that she would succeed in retrieving them back. She needed the relief and comfort she had come to rely on. Driven by the fear of what feelings may arise within her during the dead of night pulled her forcefully onwards. Remnants of the rebellious 'Joy' guided her through the lantern-lit halls. All Hecate could understand was that not having access to her vials of sleeping potion was simply not an option.

Headstrong and determined, the young witch opened the door to the potions lab and made a break for the locked store cupboard. She expected to find that the lock had been enhanced with additional magic to keep her out. Instead, she strode straight in to the classroom only to me met with Miss Cackle who was sitting at her desk marking exams. The young witch froze momentarily before she rapidly turned on the spot in the direction of retreat.

"Not so fast," Miss Cackle voiced firmly. "I thought I might be seeing you here, Hecate."

Hecate did not halt, she ran. She ran away seemingly before her mind had made the decision to do so. She ran through a maze of corridors and up countless steps. She ran until her chest throbbed in protest and her breath grew too shallow. She ran until her arms and legs grew tired. She ran until she reached her bedroom. Hecate crossed the room quickly and swung open the lower tier of the window. Panting, she drew in deep breaths of cool night air. The wind whipped at her long dark hair. The young witch looked out upon the lantern lit castle. Her gaze fell down far below upon the ground now concealed by darkness. Hecate collapsed in a seated position upon the generous stone window sill.

A moment passed as she regained her breath. The young witch stood up and took a few steps backward. With the complex and powerful movement of her hands she caused the glass in the large window to shatter in a magnificent fashion. Shards of glass exploded out of the window and throughout her room. Glass crunched beneath her boots as she stepped forwards once more. The young witch turned her attention again to the ground far below and stepped up onto the window sill. She gripped the sides of the window frame. A feeling of unreality swept through her with the wind. Her gaze wandered to that of the full moon beginning its' ascent above the horizon toward night.

"Indigo," she whispered longingly into the silence.

"No, Hecate," a soft voice said gently. "Please don't do this."

The young witch turned her head to see that Miss Cackle had appeared in the centre of her room. The older witch took a hesitant step forward and glass crunched loudly beneath her shoes.

"This is a dark day, Hecate. Perhaps, the darkest. Please listen to me," she paused. "You are a girl who opened her heart and made a mistake. I know that the consequences of that mistake appear unbearable right now; but that won't always be so. I will do everything in my power to support you through this. I will not let you down. I promise you that."

Miss Cackle approached the young girl slowly, and with uncertainty Hecate allowed her. The older witch reached up to grasp Hecate by the hand and guided her as she hesitantly stepped down from the window frame. Instantly, the Deputy Head Mistress used her other hand to create a swift practiced movement in the air that magically repaired the window. With their hands still clasped together tightly, the young witch collapsed in a heap onto her bed and Miss Cackle seated herself close beside her. Hecate's body shook with adrenaline and the chill of the night. Her eyes began to fill with tears. She made eye contact with the older witch and fought the against the urge to look away. She watched as tears swelled in Miss Cackle's eyes also.

"You have the strength to weather this storm, dear girl. Close your eyes and find it."

Hecate squeezed her eyes tight shut causing tears to escape. Instantaneously she was met with an impenetrable barrier that prevented any such introspection. To look inward was to acknowledge the pain and trauma that Joy had suffered.

"I can't, Miss Cackle. You're wrong. It isn't there."

"You will find it, Hecate. With time."


End file.
